


Zutto

by VTheTrashKing



Series: Golden Lions [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath, Canonical Character Death, Crying, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied Time Travel, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Side Story, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, Visions, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTheTrashKing/pseuds/VTheTrashKing
Summary: Two weeks after the major battle in Garreg Mach, Felix finds himself unable to sleep, sticking by Sylvain's side. Sylvain convinces him to get some rest, Felix complies and recalls their relationship over the years.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Golden Lions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843606
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Zutto

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I am back and surprisingly I wrote a companion piece to "Golden Lions," the idea never left my mind so I had to write this.
> 
> I finished GD a while ago, and I'm now on Silver Snow. I made Sylvain my Swordmaster and now he has a 89 crit chance. His speed is busted, everything in his inventory is busted. He's unstoppable.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

Felix sat by Sylvain, trying and failing not to stare at his missing arm. Professor Manuela replaced his bandages about thirty minutes ago. After checking up on the pair, she left for another side of the infirmary. 

It’s been two weeks since that massive battle. More like a damned _war,_ despite the lack of casualties on Garreg Mach’s side. Despite that battle just being a single fight, ending with a burst of high rising, violent flames.

Two weeks and Sylvain keeps pretending that nothing happened.

Two weeks and Sylvain keeps reassuring Felix as though _he’s_ the one that needs comfort.

Two weeks.

“Hey.” Sylvain called.

Felix’s eyes drifted over to Sylvain’s face. He grunted in response. Sylvain sat up, furrowing his eyebrows as he stared at Felix. The redhead thumbed at the heavy eye bags underneath his eyes, worriedly frowning.

“You still haven’t been sleeping?”

“Worry about yourself, fool.”

Sylvain only gave him a dismissive wave, “Trust me, I’m fine.”

He wasn’t.

Felix _knew_ that Sylvain wasn’t fine. Regardless of the masks Sylvain used to wear, how he decided to take a dip into the Valley of Torment and let himself drown, Felix has clung to his side _far_ too long to notice Sylvain’s little tells.

A plain smile devoid of any warmth, meant to be deceptively reassuring. Sylvain’s go to smile when he lies, when he feels uncomfortable with being in the spotlight, or when his issues are called out.

Felix knows that _no one_ in this entire world would be smiling and laughing away after losing an arm. Not Sylvain.

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me.”

Sylvain fell silent, losing that fake smile altogether. His hand hovered over Felix’s head, fingers twitching. Felix huffed.

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Felix lowered his head, resting against Sylvain’s blanketed lap. Sylvain gently threaded his fingers in his inky blue hair, half ruffling it. The tension in Felix’s body began to loosen, bit by bit.

“I hate it.” Sylvain _finally_ admitted, his voice quiet.

The same voice he had when confronting Miklan, trying to reign in his fear. Trying to push past the reality he was struck with. Resigned with a hollow heart and a faint, dying hope that things could have been different. When the Black Beast fell away and that _bastard_ remained, Sylvain’s mournful whisper echoed in the empty tower, completely downcast. Felix wished the Professor ordered _him_ to kill Miklan, not Sylvain. 

“I hate it,” Sylvain repeated, “but what can I do about it, you know?”

This too, was another thing about Sylvain. Something Felix learned early on. It wasn’t so much as Sylvain was quick to give up. He’s seen him be extremely motivated, whether it be protecting-

An image flashed in Felix’s head and he wanted to forget. A disembodied limb, blood trailing down the half-curled hand, dripping onto the burning grass-

Sylvain was quick to accept things. Especially if it involved him and _only_ him.

Every beating and rage-filled murder attempt from Miklan, Sylvain had accepted it as his fate. Every word from his asshole father, Sylvain _knew_ were wrong, yet soldiered on, playing and then _becoming_ the role of a good little heir. Every nick and wound from his self-inflicted pain of mindlessly charming women hardly seemed to matter to him as the years went by.

To Felix, it was as though Sylvain desperately held onto a dying flame. A flame that mirrored his hope of feeling _alive,_ doing whatever he wanted. His freedom that he craved so badly, even if that meant self-destructing and losing himself to his own bitter apathy. Sylvain huddled over that measly, candle-lit fire, trying to protect it for years.

Of course, it was Felix himself who kindled that flame with an outstretched hand. When they were kids, back when Felix followed Sylvain around like a stupid duckling, back when Sylvain smiled just like the afternoon sun, open and free, back when Felix screamed for help and ran for his father when he found Sylvain trapped down an ice cold well. Even now, _even now,_ Felix reached out for him. Although, it was the complete opposite.

It was Sylvain who held out his hand, scarred and bloodied. Hesitant and full of fear, wishing to reassure himself and Felix that he was okay. Trying to convince himself that _someone_ out there still loved him, that he was worth something. Filling in a role that was six feet under ground, formerly covered by a disastrous, overgrown meadow of fungus and black dahlias. 

Sylvain offered his bleeding heart to Felix, he offered him the boy he once was, the man he became, embittered by years of poor introspection and his father’s shitty ideals. He offered the man he was _now,_ fragile like a newborn baby, yet resolute with just _how much_ he cared for his found family, the safety of his friends being far more important than himself, the cost of protecting them outweighing every single injury.

Felix took it without any hesitation. 

“Get a sword.” Felix replied, filling the quiet room.

Sylvain laughed a little.

Felix was hardly a wordsmith, hell, he wasn’t even a _talker._ He was terrible at expressing himself, and so, he relied on action. Every word that flew out of his mouth, he meant in _some_ way.

Telling Ingrid to go and find a husband, _yes,_ he said that. He _meant_ to say it. His words were harsh, almost breaking a threshold, he was sure.

But, Felix only wanted Ingrid to move on. Not _now,_ he wasn’t that cruel. He wanted to tell her that it was okay to soldier on and leave the past where it belonged, he wanted to say that she could allow herself to be selfish for once, to be _happy._

Even when he “talked” to Dimitri, really, _harassing_ him, Felix was more or less honest. His feelings were born out of anger. Fear. Anger, that Felix _knew_ what happened to his childhood friend but couldn’t figure out how to even help. Fear, that Dimitri’s mind would eventually betray him and he would wind up dead to his own twisted, dark thoughts.

Felix saw it once before. Two years ago, now bordering on three. 

For some reason, the glassy, _sick_ look in Dimitri’s eyes looked hauntingly familiar. The bodies laying at his feet for one moment were doused in red and black armor, slumped over and destroyed like wooden toys. For a second, two eyes became one, prim and mostly proper hair became a rat’s nest, the chipped metal lance in his hands shifted into an orange-red glowing Relic.

Then, the image shattered like glass and Felix soon forgot it ever happened.

At least, Felix no longer had to worry too much, now. Claude and his Golden Deer seemed to take great care of him, way better than the Blue Lions ever could. They were quick to accept Dimitri, even when the curtain threatened to fall, exposing him for what he was. Or what he _thought_ he was.

Claude made Dimitri happy. His small legion of weird ass Deer made Dimitri happy.

Felix wasn’t dumb enough to take that away from Dimitri, he wasn’t cruel enough to bring him down and taunt him.

Felix cared too much, despite not wanting to show it at all.

Which was why he gave Sylvain that answer.

Get stronger, get _better_ if he _really_ wanted to keep fighting like this, risking his life for something he thought was important. Buy a sword and train every day. Losing an arm didn’t make him _useless,_ it didn’t invalidate _anything._ If Sylvain couldn’t pick up or use a lance, he could still wield a sword. Felix would help him, he wanted to help him, he _nee-_

“I think I can do that.” Sylvain said, resolve and a brand new purpose hiding behind the mirth in his eyes.

“You better. I’ll even buy you a blade.”

That simple little exchange got Sylvain to _really_ smile. Warmth flooded Felix’s chest, making his head buzz.

“I’m already looking forward to this. Never thought I’d _ever_ say this in my life, but I am _so_ ready to train.”

Felix smirked in order to hide the smile creeping up on his face, “Good.”

“On _one_ condition.”

“What?”

“Hey, don’t pout at me, Felix.”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“That includes pouting?”

Felix scoffed, “I don’t _pout._ I’m not a child.”

“But Fe,” Sylvain dragged out his nickname to an ‘annoying’ degree, “it’s cute.”

Felix’s face bloomed bright red. He hurriedly looked away from Sylvain.

“Shut up.”

Sylvain laughed, the sound a million times brighter than it’s been in two weeks.

“One condition,” Sylvain repeated, threading his fingers through Felix’s hair a little slower, “sleep, baby.”

Felix’s nose wrinkled. He smacked Sylvain’s leg. Sylvain sputtered out another laugh that made Felix’s brain turn to mush.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, kitten.”

“I hate you.”

“Come on! You _love_ that one.”

“Now I don’t. Keep up, sweetheart.”

Sylvain’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. It was a delicate, sweet little thing.

“I love you _so_ much, Felix. _So_ much.”

Felix hummed.

“You too.”

“Just go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“What about _you?_ What if you need _me_ to-”

“You’re _always_ here for me, it’s always been that way, and right now, just being near you helps me so much. So it’s okay, Felix, it’s alright. Rest.”

Felix bit his lip, still unconvinced. Still worried. Still afraid.

“Oh, Fe,” Sylvain almost mournfully called as his hand left his frazzled blue locks, “come here.”

Sylvain shuffled back to the headrest, giving Felix a free seat right next to him. Felix stood up from his chair and left for the plain white bed. Immediately, Sylvain wrapped him up in a one armed hug, tightening his hold. Sylvain reluctantly let go for a moment to grab at his disheveled blanket. With some difficulty, he draped the fluffy blanket over Felix. He laughed a bit when the blanket caught on Felix’s hair and began to slip off. Sylvain smiled, leaving a butterfly kiss on Felix’s forehead.

Sylvain held him again. Felix hugged him right back, refusing to let go. His eyes burned, his shed tears ran hot down his face. He vowed to himself that he’d never be this pathetic again, but the tears didn’t stop. The annoying sniffles leaving his nose kept happening every second with each uneven, fractured breath.

He _wasn’t_ strong enough, and because of that Sylvain-

Sylvain-

_Sylvain-_

“I’m safe, Felix.”

Felix _wailed._

“I’ll be alright, it’ll take a while, but I’ll be just fine. Go to sleep, you need it.”

Combined with the warmth of the blanket and Sylvain’s body, those stupid, earnest words convinced Felix to fall asleep.

* * *

It was difficult to remember the exact date when they met. However, to this day, Felix recalled the biting cold being erased by the bright morning sun. The snowfall was incredibly light that day, nearly nonexistent.

It was spring when Sylvain and Felix met. The flowers outside the estate had just begun to bloom and the trees were slowly growing back their leaves. Felix had gotten up early, which he usually did to spar with Glenn. To his surprise, the estate was noisier than it normally was. 

Felix investigated, carefully sneaking out of his room. After walking down one of the stairs, he quickly solved the mystery. In the main hall, his father was busy talking to another man. The man had a firm grip on his son, never leaving his small shoulder. Felix stared at the redhead boy, wondering why his smile looked so _sad._ His smile hardly seemed real to Felix, entirely thin and much too faint. His honey brown eyes locked onto Felix, easily catching him staring. Surprise flickered in his eyes before going dark. The hand on his shoulder seemed to tighten and the boy looked away, staring straight ahead at Felix’s father.

“What is the matter, Mattias?” Rodrigue asked, curious.

Rodrigue was a loving man, another person with a bleeding heart. So, it was normal to hear ‘my friend’ or ‘my boy’ fall from his lips. It was normal for Felix to see his father hug Mitya’s dad, or place a kind, gentle hand on Felix’s shoulder when he cried. He cared for Ingie and Mitya like they were his own children. 

Rodrigue had filled in a role, _two_ roles ever since mother upped and left. 

But it was _strange_ for his father to be so distant with another person. Critical, almost. 

“Nothing, my son was merely distracted.”

Felix hated the sound of Mattias’ voice. The way his words curled into something objectifying when he said the words ‘my son.’ It was like he saw the boy as a prize, a ticket to wealth. The boy didn’t seem to care, or maybe it was that he _already_ knew. Felix knew his father told him hate was a _strong_ word, but Glenn _also_ said it was justified if he had a reason.

Which Felix did.

His father seemed to share the sentiment, vaguely staring at Mattias in displeasure. 

“I see.”

Felix saw Rodrigue smile down at the boy, gentle and inviting. The redhead’s fake smile diminished into an unsure frown.

“Yes, sir?”

“None of that, my boy. You can call me Rodrigue.”

The boy’s mouth opened and closed.

“I can’t do that, sir. It’s disrespectful.”

“That’s alright, I understand.”

The poor boy didn’t know how to react to Rodrigue at _all._ There was an expectation the boy was anticipating, waiting for the other shoe to drop, looking out for a reaction Rodrigue would _never_ have.

“Tell me, what is your name, my boy?”

“Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

Rodrigue held out his hand and Sylvain hesitated. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sylvain.”

Sylvain mutely nodded.

It was then Felix decided Sylvain needed a new friend. He wanted to make Sylvain smile for real.

Felix powered through his shyness, marching over to Sylvain like a man on a mission. He stood face to face with him, watching Sylvain for a moment. Felix put his index fingers on the corner of his lips. He tugged at his lips, making himself smile.

Sylvain’s eyes went a little wide as a ghost of a smile curled his lips. His tiny smile grew by the second, resembling the morning sun peeking through the large window behind him.

“Hi Sylvie! I’m Felix.”

* * *

Sylvain, Felix realized, was _odd_ at first. 

Not in a dangerous or suspicious way, whatever that last word meant. But Sylvie _was_ a little weird to a worrying degree. When Mattias dropped Sylvain off to the Fraldarius estate, at first, he kept that plastic smile on his face. He was overly polite and quiet whenever Mattias was still around him. The redhead would stand tall with a brave face, only to curl into himself, uncomfortable in a brand new place without his father watching him.

For the first few days, Sylvain remained unsure and tense. He hid away or flat out avoided Glenn, shyly laughing at a confused Felix, never explaining why he ran from his brother. Sylvain was hyper aware of the sounds in the estate, _especially_ footsteps. He flinched at the light footfalls Glenn had, or the pitter patter of Felix’s feet, even the houseworkers’ mid to heavy footsteps keyed him up. Sylvain always seemed to look out for _something_ with every unfamiliar room he went in, smiling in relief when he found whatever he spotted.

Sylvain didn’t seem to react well to touch, either. 

Felix remembered the first time Sylvain asked about Glenn.

It was well into the night, and a little chilly despite it being spring. A few minutes earlier, Felix checked up on Sylvain in his guest room. It was mostly dark, save for the candle lit by the nightstand and the open royal blue curtains. Sylvain jumped at the sound of the door creaking open before visibly relaxing. He waved at Felix with a small smile on his face. 

It was pitch black outside and Sylvain hardly looked tired. Even though he was already laying in bed, over the covers for some strange reason.

“Sylvie it’s late. You can’t sleep?” 

Sylvain gave him a sheepish look.

“No.”

Felix beckoned Sylvain over, “Then let’s go to my room!”

“Are you sure,” Sylvain quietly asked, sounding a little afraid, “won’t Glenn or your father be mad?”

Felix blinked, considering Sylvain’s question for about two seconds.

“No! So, come on, Sylvie! Let’s go.” Felix whisper-yelled.

Sylvain bit his lip, hesitating before hopping off his bed. He stared back at the blankets, seemingly a bit more anxious.

“Sylvie?”

“Is it _really_ okay to just leave the room?”

Felix didn’t respond, and instead entered the guest room. He held out his hand, trying not to tear up.

“You don’t want to come with me?” 

Felix’s lip wobbled. Sylvain looked alarmed, soft brown eyes going wide open.

“No-! I mean, yes, but-”

“ _Sylvie_!” Felix cried, tears already rolling down his cheeks.

“No, I’ll go! I’ll go with you. Please stop crying, Fe!”

Felix sniffled, staring at Sylvain like a sad but curious little puppy.

“Fe?”

“Is that okay? You call me Sylvie, so I thought it was okay to give you a nickname too.”

Felix rubbed at his eyes, smiling brightly at Sylvain.

“I like it!”

Sylvain smiled back, blooming under the crescent moon outside the window. He made up his mind, raising his right hand and holding Felix’s left. The pair walked out the room, making their way to Felix’s bedroom. It was fairly large with dark birch flooring and one blue-yellow rug in the center. The walls were pale blue and somewhat filled with various paintings. The wooden furniture matched the flooring. While the curtains were closed, light still passed through as the baby blue curtains were transparent. A spare wooden sword and wooden shield rested against the wall. The shield had a splatter of royal blue paint, making a spiral in the shape of a nine. 

Felix led Sylvain to his bed. They huddled together, a few inches apart. After holding Sylvain’s hand a few times, or clinging onto his arm for a quick moment, Felix noticed Sylvain ran hot like a fire. As much as he wanted to hug him for warmth and security, Felix knew Sylvain wouldn’t be comfortable. The blankets were warm enough, but Felix thought - _but Sylvie is way warmer._

Shivering, Felix swaddled himself and Sylvain in his fluffy blue blanket. He sunk into his huge blanket, watching Sylvain. The redhead still didn’t seem tired, but he looked a bit more relaxed, which made Felix smile.

Felix was pretty tired himself, leading Sylvain by the hand and giving him a tour around the estate all day. Sylvain had weaved out of the way of having Glenn or his father be a tour guide, politely declining. He glanced at Felix, saying nothing, yet Glenn and Rodrige saw or heard _something_ in that silent gesture. They shared a look before allowing Felix to lead the charge.

Felix yawned, blearily blinking.

“Hey, Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“What is Glenn like?”

Felix grinned widely, losing the tiredness sinking into his bones in one go. 

“Glenn’s amazing! He’s a really good knight and he tries to protect everyone with a smile.”

Felix tapped his cheek, a little pout reaching his lips as he thought.

“When Glenn’s home, he’s super grumpy but I know he cares a lot. He’s,” Felix squinted, trying to find a word, “rude when he talks but father says he’s blunt? I don’t know what that means yet.”

“Oh! Glenn teaches me bad words when father isn’t here. Don’t tell him I told you!” Felix said with a laugh.

“What word did he teach you?”

“Dumbass. It means you’re _really_ dumb, it’s funny.” Felix told him, as though it was a secret.

Sylvain let out a huff from his nose, then burst out laughing. The nine year old giggled until he was left breathless. He sent Felix into his own fit of laughter. Felix met Sylvain’s eyes, laughing harder. He ended up squeaking. Sylvain eventually stopped laughing.

“Does Glenn play games with you?”

“Like what?”

Sylvain made a face, “Keeping your hand over a fire?”

“No! Glenn isn’t _that_ mean. You don’t play scary games like that with _your_ brother, right?”

“I don’t.”

Even though Felix was fairly clueless like any other seven year old, he could still understand that Sylvain was lying to him. The way Sylvain crafted a perfect little smile, how that smile didn’t reach his honey brown eyes. The look of startling realization in his eyes before covered it up and smothered it.

“Sylvie, please don’t lie. Friends don’t lie.”

“We’re friends?” Sylvain asked in a tiny, _tiny_ voice.

Sylvain looked even _more_ unsure than he did leaving the guest room. It hurt Felix at the time, thinking Sylvain didn’t like him or was too scared of him to even be his friend. He sounded so scared, so confused at Felix’s statement and the dumb seven year old only thought that he did something wrong. Maybe Felix was already too clingy, maybe he upset Sylvain by never letting go of his hand, maybe he just babbled too much.

But, looking back on it, Sylvain sounded _hopeful._ Sylvain himself told him he was terrified of having that hope, so he slammed his brief happiness into a jar and tightly capped the lid just in case that small ball of sunshine would die out.

“We aren’t? I thought-” Felix replied, tears ready to form and spill over.

“Wait-! Don’t cry again! I just,” Sylvain frowned a bit, trying to calm Felix down, “I never had a friend before.” 

“Now we are, and I’m happy.”

“I’m happy, too. Really happy. I’m glad you’re my first friend, Fe.”

“Me too! But you’re my _fourth_ friend! Maybe we could be best friends someday? Best _best_ friends?”

“Slow down! Who are your other friends, I wanna know.”

“You already met Glenn, kind of, but he’s my very first friend. I love him! Then there’s Mitya.”

“Mitya?”

“Dimitri! He’s the prince, isn’t that amazing?”

“You’re _friends_ with the prince of Faerghus?!”

“Uh-huh. He’s so nice and strong!”

Sylvain took a while to process this information, staring at Felix in disbelief.

“What about your other friend?”

“Ingie. Ingrid, she likes Glenn a lot and she wants to be a knight like him, too! She likes rules.”

“I think,” Sylvain murmured, “I think I want to meet them one day.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. If being friends with you makes me feel happy, then I want more.”

Felix smiled. He stretched, making a high pitched noise similar to a cat.

“Can I hug you, Sylvie?”

“Um. Okay.”

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay!”

“No, I,” Sylvain went quiet for a second, “I’ve only been hugged by a maid in my house. Lorena’s really nice to me.”

“What about your mother?”

“Once, but I didn’t like it very much. She kept saying how much she loved me,” a stormy, bitter expression crossed Sylvain’s face, “but I don’t think that’s true.”

Felix frowned, “So if I hug you, you’ll know I love you, right?”

Sylvain blinked, “Love me?”

“Like a friend!”

“I think so.”

The frown on Felix’s face withered away. He smiled, wrapping Sylvain in a loose hug.

“I’m really tired now. But, I’ll stay up ‘till you sleep.”

Sylvain shook his head, “No, I think I can go to sleep soon. I feel safe.”

After a couple of minutes, Sylvain dozed off along with Felix.

* * *

Within the coming weeks, Sylvain and Felix became lightning fast friends. Sylvain grew out of his shell more and more. While he still kept that shell around, Sylvain was virtually unguarded and so _happy_ whenever he stayed at the Fraldarius estate. When Dimitri and Ingrid came over, Sylvain was back to his fake smiles and polite wallflower nature, but only for a moment. The wallflower soon spread across the floor, blooming into purple asters and blue hydrangeas. The cool colored flowers spiraled around them, enticing them, _allowing_ them to pluck the petals if they wanted.

Sylvain quickly became an older brother to them, giving and giving so much that Felix was scared Sylvain would continue, even if he lost parts of himself or started offering those parts to his new friends. When Felix brought it up to Sylvain, the redhead merely shook his head, telling him he didn’t mind it at all. That he was _happy._

A spare button for Dimitri, after one of his buttons on his favorite coat popped right out.

A green-white plaid ribbon for Ingrid to tie up her hair.

Sylvain handed Felix his own scarf when Felix trembled from the cold and cried, carefully wrapping the burgundy scarf around his neck and hugging him tightly to warm him up. He bought a blue cat plushy with pitch black button eyes and a pink stitched ‘x’ as a mouth for him. He even sparred with him whenever he came over.

Glenn, though, Sylvain still had trouble talking to. He got used to him, no longer bolting out the room if Glenn was there or finding ways to avoid seeing him entirely. Sylvain was able to look at him and say hello. Words were stuck in Sylvain’s throat, unable to come out whenever he tried to talk to Glenn. Glenn just shrugged it off, not minding Sylvain’s behavior but worried for him all the same.

Somehow, Felix managed to convince Sylvain to just _try._ All he really did was talk about Glenn. 

It was late into the afternoon. Ingrid and Dimitri long since left the estate. Sylvain stayed behind, playing and hanging out with Felix. The pair sat in the kitchen, finishing up their lunch.

“Can we talk to Glenn? I want to know him, too.”

“Yeah, let’s go!”

The pair got up from their chairs, pushing them in. Sylvain looked pretty nervous, a hand running through his hair. He lowered his hand to his neck, messing with his baby hairs. The redhead pinched and pulled at them. Felix lightly grabbed his wrist, bringing his arm down and holding his hand. He stood on his tippy toes, planting a soft kiss on Sylvain’s forehead.

Silence filled the kitchen. Sylvain blinked, _very_ confused, but thankfully not angry. He placed his free hand on his forehead for a moment before letting it fall back to his side.

“It’s for good luck!” Felix hastily blurted.

Felix knew he said friends couldn’t lie to each other, but it didn’t count if it was somewhat true, right?

Felix really _did_ mean it for good luck, just in case Sylvain was still scared. So even if he was afraid, he could remember this and feel a little brave.

It was still a half-truth, though. Felix wanted to kiss him just because. He had a stray thought in his head that _wouldn’t_ go away. He just wanted to kiss Sylvain because he liked him. Before the guilt seeped into Felix’s heart, Sylvain’s face lit up like a star.

“Thanks, Fe!”

“You’re welcome, Sylvie.”

Felix kept his hand wrapped around Sylvain’s wrist, tugging it forward.

“Come on, let’s go talk to Glenn.”

Sylvain nodded. They finally left the kitchen, heading out of the estate and reaching the training grounds. The snow was long gone, leaving behind fresh, vibrant grass and dirt patches. A row of training dummies were lined up, with one being a little crooked. The wood keeping that training dummy up was chipped after Dimitri hit it a bit too hard with his wooden sword.

Sylvain and Felix found Glenn hacking away at a training dummy. He swiped at the dummy with a rusting iron sword, grunting and yelling with each strike. Just as he was about to slash his sword, Glenn pointed it at the ground and looked over his shoulder. Surprise flickered in his gray-blue eyes before warming up with fondness.

“Here to train? I’m almost done, so I can leave.”

Felix shook his head, glancing at Sylvain. The redhead drew in a breath to calm himself down. He stared right back at Felix, smiling shyly. 

“I wanted to talk to you, Glenn.”

Glenn rose both of his eyebrows, but made no snarky or shocked comment.

“Yeah? What about?”

“I don’t really know. Sorry.”

Glenn scoffed, disguising it as a cough, “That’s fine too, kid. Nothing wrong with that.”

Glenn dropped to the ground, sitting right on the grass. He leaned against the training dummy behind him. Glenn rested his sword between his legs, patting the ground next to him. Felix immediately sat down, watching Sylvain follow suit.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to Glenn idly hum a song. 

“Why are you a knight, Glenn?” Sylvain asked, shattering the silence.

“Why not?”

Glenn snickered at his own cheeky answer, eyes crinkling as he smiled. He glanced up at the sky for a moment before looking back at Sylvain.

“I wanted Fódlan to know, even the Crestless can have dreams, really.”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide like saucers, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“You’re- you don’t have a Crest? At all?”

Sylvain’s voice sounded small. Like a tiny, fractured box stuffed full and ready to spill over. 

“Nope. Never got one and I don’t care, either. Nobles treat it like some badge of honor, a guarantee for _greatness._ Total bullshit, by the way,” Glenn casually swore with a roll of his eyes, “I just feel like it’s a glorified stamp. Sure, it helps a lot strength-wise like with _Her_ Highness’ Crest or even with magic, but it’s really nothing special if the Crestless can do the same thing. Dimitri can swing a sword and so can I.”

Glenn snorted at Sylvain’s expression.

“Above all else, though, I just wanted to protect others. Even the stray cats that pestered me for food in the city.”

“I wish Miklan could see it that way or even my father.”

“ _Miklan_?!”

Sylvain flinched, “Do you know him?”

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning aloud.

“Goddess, yes, I know him. I met the bastard _once_ and I hated him so much that I punched him.”

“You punched Miklan?!”

“That’s what I just said, yeah. Right in his face, too. He kept trying to, I don’t even know, convince me to do something with him? Wait, hold on.”

“Oh, now I remember what that rat bastard did,” Glenn snapped his fingers, “he tried to suck up to me with a sob story, telling me we both had it hard and that we should take revenge against those with Crests. Mind you, little Felix was a toddler at the time _and_ his Crest showed up, so I was pretty pissed off when he said that. I mean taking revenge on an innocent, cute baby brother? A defenseless _kid_?”

“I’m not little! And I’m not cute, Glenn!”

“ _Lies._ ” Glenn hissed, the fake sneer on his face melting into a smile.

“I was wrong.” Sylvain murmured under his breath.

Glenn made a questioning hum.

“You’re not mean or scary.”

Glenn let out a bark of a laugh, “Me? Not mean? I’m _plenty_ mean.”

Sylvain slowly shook his head.

“You’re nice, just like Felix said. It almost- it almost makes me wish I had you as a brother instead, but Fe needs you more.”

“I really don’t mind having another little brother, you know.”

“But Miklan-”

“Can rot in a fire for all I care. I’m your older brother now, deal with it.”

“Okay,” Sylvain shyly glanced at Glenn, “big brother.”

* * *

Two months wasn’t enough to know a person. Granted a whole week wasn’t, either, but Felix really _really_ liked Sylvain. Felix didn’t understand his feelings much, why his head kept spewing weird stuff. The kind of stuff Glenn and Ingrid say to each other. His brain practically screeched at him to hug Sylvain for a little longer, to hold his hand; which he _already_ did a lot, to kiss him. Felix didn’t think anything of his weird thoughts, and Sylvain didn’t mind him being so touchy or clingy. Every good luck kiss, every hand hold and every single hug, Sylvain allowed it. He seemed so happy with it, too, as if he was never treated with such sweet care before.

Now _that_ was a thought with feelings Felix understood. He was upset, _pissed off_ like Glenn would say sometimes. Not at Sylvain, of course, he could never be mad at him. He just felt fluffy and warm all over with Sylvain. Felix _was_ mad at Mattias and Miklan, though. Did Mattias let Sylvain play with other kids at all? Did he care for Sylvain like his father did? 

Those questions had easy answers, easy answers that Felix really hated.

Felix thought back to what Glenn said about Miklan, what _Sylvain_ said about Miklan once or twice.

That scary game he played with his brother, Miklan trying to mess with Glenn, how Sylvain used to run away from Glenn, too scared to say _anything_ to him.

Felix _never_ met Miklan, but he hoped that he could. Not because he _liked_ him, he didn’t like Miklan at _all._ He wanted to meet him so he could punch him in the face, too.

Felix shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts. He stared at his finished plate of food. 

His mind drifted back to Sylvain, like it usually did. His shock of bright red hair, how soft to the touch his fiery red curls were. The sound of his laughter, high-pitched and full of squeaks. The wide, open mouth smile he wore on his sun-kissed face. When he smiled at Felix, or even Dimitri and Ingrid, it was like staring at the sunset. It was pretty.

_He’s pretty. Wait-_

_Sylvie isn’t a girl. But Glenn calls Mitya pretty, wait no, he says that as a joke. Sylvie isn’t a joke, though. Sylvie is my friend. Sylvie-_

“Hey, you’re pouting pretty hard there, Mr. Crybaby.”

“Glenn!”

“What’s got you thinking so much? Wait, let me guess. Is it _Sylvie_?”

A sniffle. A tear. A whimper.

Felix cried. 

He knew he cried a lot, for anything, for everything. 

He cried _now_ because he didn’t understand his feelings. He thought being _this_ close to Sylvain was normal, he felt comfortable with Sylvain and had no reason to question their relationship. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, if his thoughts were wrong in the first place. 

“Did he hurt you?” Glenn asked, losing his teasing tone altogether.

“No!”

“Then?” Glenn gently prodded.

“I don’t know! I don’t know.”

Glenn pursed his lips, frowning.

“How do you feel about him?”

“Safe. I,” Felix choked on a shaky breath, “I feel safe. And warm. I like his hugs and his smiles-”

“Oh how the Fraldarius curse runs deep,” Glenn murmured with a laugh, speaking a bit louder, “Felix, come here you daft brat.”

Felix got up from his seat, crashing into Glenn’s waiting arms. His brother easily wrapped him in a firm hug.

“You’re in love.”

“Like you and Ingie?”

“Like me and Ingrid, yeah.”

“Is- is it _bad?_ Loving Sylvie?”

“Is it bad that I’m Crestless? Or if it’s wrong that I’m in the Royal Guard without a Crest?”

Felix slowly shook his head.

“There’s your answer, then. Do what you want, Felix and if it’s loving your best friend, then just keep being your crybaby self.”

“I’m not a crybaby!”

“Sure, I believe you, kid.”

“What should I do?” Felix asked, calming down some.

“You could always just tell him.”

Felix curled in on himself, quickly shaking his head.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

For a second, Glenn looked away. He grimaced, eyes flashing with something dark. Glenn whispered under his breath.

“Make a promise with him. It could be _really_ dramatic like-”

“Don’t tell me! I want to do it myself.”

A few weeks later, he did. Sitting under a tree in the nearby forest, Felix’s pinky linked with Sylvain’s, promising each other they would stay together until they died.

* * *

A year went by and Felix fully understood why Sylvain was so terrified of Glenn back then.

Miklan.

Miklan, his older brother who was _supposed_ to protect him, to love him, hurt him instead. He was different from Glenn, his words, his actions, they were entirely different from each other.

Glenn would constantly demand Felix to spar, wherever, _whenever._ They sparred in the kitchen, right after breakfast with their father watching them in amusement. Felix’s tiny fists managing to gain the upper hand as Glenn turned his back to steal an apple from the table. Glenn dragged Felix outside to train alongside him, coming to blows with wooden swords. Glenn _was_ rough when he fought, taunting and quick to anger, but-

But, he _never_ laid a hand on him outside of training. He never left after a sparring match, always looking for bruises, smiling when he found none. Whenever a bruise formed on Glenn’s skin, he laughed it off then soothed a crying Felix.

Glenn was moody, but he practically smothered Felix with love, teasing him with every breath. Nothing more than light jabs and nicknames. 

Glenn was all sorts of things, rude, mean, overprotective, a fighter.

Miklan was neither.

The Fraldarius family went to the Gautier territory, requested by Mattias himself. His father outright _refused_ to leave his children with Mattias, let alone Miklan, so he came to the estate as well. 

The Gautier estate felt strange to Felix. Even with all the maids and butlers, the decorations and furniture, the house seemed empty. Cold and lifeless. The Gautier family wasn’t any better, filling the empty house with a harsh rubber band tension, ready to be pulled and _snapped._ A mother with bleak eyes and downturned lips, silky, long red hair that stole the life in her eyes. She was quiet and sad, just like how Sylvain was when they first met.

A father with graying black hair, wild curls that refused to be tamed despite the man slicking it back. Ice cold brown eyes, paying attention to one child but shuning another. Ignoring the rage-filled glares Miklan would give to Sylvain, not caring about the bruises that littered his skin, not even saying or showing he loved them.

Felix remembered thinking he _hated_ Mattias, and he still did with every bone in his body.

He hated Miklan more.

Within a few hours, Sylvain showed Felix his favorite places. The stables, the woods, the staffing wing of the Gautier estate. Felix was introduced to Gene, Sylvain’s tiny pony. The mare was _extremely_ overprotective of Sylvain, never letting Felix get any closer and nudging him away from his owner. Gene always turned her head to watch Felix, seemingly glaring at him. The mare’s agitation died down when Sylvain started talking to her, petting her mane with a smile on his face. He pat her head, turning to Felix with an even bigger smile. The redhead handed Felix a fresh apple and told him to give it to Gene. Gene was quite suspicious of the apple, now that it was in Felix’s hands, but she eventually gave in and ate it. Sylvain gave Gene another pat on the head and left the stables, much to Gene’s protests.

Once they left, going back inside to find the staffing wing, Sylvain softly admitted that Gene was his only friend in his house. Felix’s heart lurched. His heart twisted even more when he realized Sylvain rarely smiled when he was home. His bright starlight grin was dim, even when it was directed at Felix.

Felix’s first day at the Gautier estate was uncomfortable, too quiet with resentment bubbling on the surface. The next was horrifying.

It was a little late into the evening. After another _weird,_ way too quiet dinner, Sylvain quickly ushered him out the dining hall. Sylvain didn’t hold his hand as he led him to his room. Even Sylvain’s room looked dreary to Felix. Light spilled into the room, making the crimson walls glow. Sylvain didn’t have much in his room, no plushies on his neatly made bed, no random training weapons sprawled about. Sylvain walked over to his wooden closet, opening the doors. He retrieved a slim black box and placed it on the floor. The redhead sat in front of the box as he pulled the lid off.

“Come on, Fe! Sit down.”

Felix plopped down onto the floor, sitting next to Sylvain. Sylvain took out the board game from the box, carefully setting the dice, cards and tokens next to the empty box. 

“What game is this?”

“Three Houses! Lorena bought it for me a while ago. It’s pretty easy, so it’ll be a lot of fun!”

Felix nodded, “How do you play?”

“Okay. Okay! You have to buy a lot of places and make money to win,” Sylvain picked up a token, a shiny metal dog, “pick one of these and then,” Sylvain pointed to the two dice, “roll to move on the spaces. Sometimes you have to pick up a card.”

“I want the dog.”

Felix only wanted the dog because Sylvain grabbed it first. 

Sylvain grinned at him, handing over the token. The redhead took the top hat. They began to play and Felix _hated_ that he was losing. They laughed and yelled at each other, freely joking around like they usually did. Even though Felix landed himself into the cellars and lost most of his properties to Sylvain, seeing the boy smile for _real_ made losing worth it.

Out of _nowhere,_ a pair of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Sylvain went rigid, dropping the dice in his hand. He took in a deep breath and held it. 

“Syl-”

Sylvain violently shook his head, bringing his finger to his lips. He grabbed a hold of Felix’s collar and tugged him forward. He quickly let go, pointing to his closet.

‘Hide.’ Sylvain mouthed.

Felix’s eyes widened. His eyebrows pinched together as a tiny frown formed on his face. He kept quiet, shaking his head at Sylvain.

Felix wouldn’t leave Sylvain alone. He _wouldn’t._

The footsteps grew louder and Sylvain cast Felix a desperate look. One filled with terror, making his already tall frame seem _smaller._ For the very first time, Sylvain began to tear up. He didn’t let his tears fall as his eyes stayed trained on Felix.

‘Ple-’

Sylvain’s unsaid words were cut short. He snapped his mouth shut, losing the fear on his face. The slightly ajar door harshly swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Felix flinched while Sylvain didn’t react.

Miklan stormed into Sylvain’s room, face contorted in a cruel scowl. He immediately locked the door behind him. Miklan ignored Felix altogether, roughly pushing him away.

“I could hear you all the way from my room.” Miklan snarled, narrowing his eyes at Sylvain like he was dirt under his shoe.

“ _Well?_ Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“I’m sorry, Miklan.”

Sylvain’s voice was meek. Flat.

Miklan scoffed, “That’s _right._ It’s your fault that _father_ is like this, only caring for a worthless _trophy_ like _you._ ”

Sylvain stayed quiet, standing still as he mutely nodded. Miklan huffed out a laugh, nothing like the wheeze of loud chuckles Glenn made when Felix fell face first into the snow a few days ago. Glenn apologized for laughing in between shaky breaths, laughing even louder while their father shook his head.

In contrast, Miklan’s laugh sounded bitter.

Miklan crossed his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“You should pay for that Crest, _brat._ ”

Sylvain took a step back and held onto his forearm.

“Later, Miklan. _Please!_ Do whatever you want, just not when Fe-”

“He _should_ be here. Just so he knows how pathetic you are.”

“He’s not pathetic! Leave him alone!” Felix screamed, running his throat ragged.

Miklan walked forward, towering over his little brother. He lunged for Sylvain within seconds and pinned him against the wall. Sylvain grunted in pain as his head hit the wall. Miklan wrapped his fingers around Sylvain’s throat, _squeezing._ Sylvain choked, gagging as he tried to breathe. His left hand scrambled for Miklan’s, scratching thin red lines onto his skin. Sylvain’s hand fell to his side, giving up and letting it happen.

Felix’s body moved before his mind could think. 

His Crest flared against his skin, right on the back of his hand. The symbol glowed, brighter than it ever had before, searing into his right hand. Whenever his Crest showed on his skin, it always came with a dull ache before fading away. Its blue-white glow was faint, much like a single star hung in the night. Now, _now_ it burned into his entire body, violently flashing in sync with the energy thrumming through his veins.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius was a _shield._ A shield for the Blaiddyd family. For Mitya. For the Kingdom, he knew that was his role, along with his brother. He _knew_ his blood was meant to protect, to deflect.

Felix _would._ He _had_ to, not out of duty that his father drilled into his head, not because of Glenn’s example.

Felix had to because it was _Sylvain._

“Stay _away_ from him!”

Felix curled his hands into fists, punching Miklan in his back. _Hard._ He thought he heard something crack, maybe a bone. All he focused on was Miklan stumbling forward, roughly dropping Sylvain on the floor. Miklan whipped his head back, snarling at Felix. Felix glared back at him, tears welling up in his eyes.

“You little _brat!_ ”

“Mik-” Sylvain rasped, struggling to speak.

Miklan stomped on Sylvain’s outstretched hand, _smiling_ when the boy cried out. He kicked Sylvain in his stomach, making him wince.

“ _Please._ Please- don’t- don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him. _Mikl-_ ” 

Another kick. Much harder than the first. Sylvain threw up his dinner, _sobbing._ Miklan then ignored him, setting his sights on Felix.

Felix widened his stance, watching as Miklan stalked over to him.

_He’s stronger than me, bigger, too. Maybe faster._

_But, he leaves himself open. He turned his back on me without even thinking. He thinks he’s stronger. He doesn’t have a Crest._

_And he wasn’t trained by Glenn!_

Miklan reared his fist back, roaring with anger. Felix sidestepped out of the way, running over to Sylvain’s bed without looking away.

_Anything can be a weapon._

Felix swiped a pillow from Sylvain’s bed, tightly holding it upwards in his hands. Miklan aimed a punch at him again. Felix blocked the attack with the pillow. The boy backpedaled, weaving around Miklan and slamming the pillow into his side like a _brutal_ axe swing. The pillow case tore. Miklan yelled out as he crashed into the wall. Felix raced to Sylvain, standing in front of him. 

“So the _crybaby_ has guts, huh?”

“I’m _not_ a crybaby, you _dumbass_!”

The pillow case ripped even more as Felix’s fingernails dug into the fabric. Miklan slowly walked towards him, rage rolling off of him in waves. 

A loud _bang_ caught Felix’s attention. His eyes flicked over to the door. It fell with a thud, revealing Glenn on the other side. His right foot dug into the door, chipping the wood.

Glenn’s blue-gray eyes drilled a hole right through Miklan’s head, burning hot like a violent, unforgiving fire. His eyes darkened, blazing into a wildfire before turning into ash when his gaze landed on Sylvain and Felix.

Glenn strode over to them, pretending to lower his guard. He gave Felix a light squeeze on his shoulder and an empathetic frown to Sylvain. Glenn swiftly turned on his heel, facing Miklan. He slowly shifted his feet into a fighting stance. Felix couldn’t see his face anymore but the rising tension in Glenn’s shoulders were obvious. A contained little flame in a capped bottle, ready to burst and burn through its glass prison if someone - _Miklan_ dared to even touch it.

Glenn’s posture changed. Battle ready and unyielding. He forced himself to relax after a few seconds, looking over his shoulder with a big smile on his face. His eyes crinkled and his anger somehow melted away.

“You’re safe now, little brats, I’m here.”

Glenn’s grin dimmed into something gentle.

“Go tell the old man what happened, okay? I can take _care_ of the bi- _Miklan._ ”

“But-” Felix began, dropping the pillow and clenching his fists.

“ _Now,_ Felix. Go.”

Felix frowned, looking down at the floor before reaching out for Sylvain. He helped him up and walked out his room.

Felix told his father through his angry tears, tightly holding Sylvain’s hand as the boy beside him said nothing.

After that, Miklan was disowned.

* * *

Glenn died.

* * *

Felix glowered at Sylvain, boring holes into his stupid skull as he casually looped an arm around some girl. The girl was clearly from the town nearby the academy, judging by the lack of the Garreg Mach uniform. All she wore was a plain sand-colored tunic, white pants and shiny black shoes. She exclaimed his full name like he was a god, her high pitched, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice _screeching_ in delight. Sylvain flashed her an easy grin, nothing like the ones he used to wear. It was like a sketch of a painting, never to be completed and purposely left with heavy line work. No splash of color, and if there _was,_ the colors were dull. Faint like watercolor art.

Sylvain faked a prideful look, laughing away. He quirked an eyebrow up, then both of them as he glanced up to see a simmering, _irritated_ Felix. With a meaningless peck on the cheek, he said his goodbyes to the girl and strolled towards his childhood friend.

“Hey Felix! I didn’t know you were in town, what’s up?”

Felix scowled, refusing to look at him.

“I was busy buying swords. What of it?”

“You know, that’s got me thinking, maybe I should buy something nice for uh, _Samantha_?”

Felix gave him the side eye before glancing straight ahead.

“Do you _ever_ think?”

“Hey!” Sylvain shouted, offended.

Sylvain was smart. Intelligent enough to beat his old man in a slew of chess matches. Smart enough to figure out a magic formula he’s _never_ seen before. He didn’t even _study_ Reason or Faith magic beforehand. He was smart enough to beat his brother in a fight, something Felix could never do, never _will._ He studied a person, in a fight or not, watching them and analyzed them like a bug. Looking out for their tells, looking out for a weakness. He was smart enough to realize he could take a hit. Or two. Or _five-_ Plenty.

But Sylvain hid it all away. He made himself look like a fool. He _acted_ like a fool, like he didn’t know anything but flirting with stupid, _vapid_ girls. 

Sylvain disguised himself. They all did.

Ingrid, the same girl who would run after Sylvain and Felix, keeping an eye on them, rolling her eyes but becoming shy the next, turned into a woman with a no-nonsense attitude. Firm with her resolve and beliefs, mirroring Glenn’s ideals as a knight. Her innocence and starry wide smiles burned with the Tragedy that day, bitterness licking at her heels. Contempt in her forest green eyes at the sight of the boar’s lapdog at his side.

Dim- the wild _boar,_ teeming with barely contained rage and tension, getting better at hiding what lurked under the surface. Crazed dead fish eyed gaze and a sickly smile on his lips. Deranged murmurs falling from his mouth, quietly pleading and gaining more force. Keeping a Prince Charming persona, overly polite and kind to a fault. Although, even back then, his kindness wasn’t some dumb ploy. It was as real as heavy Faerghus snowfall.

Himself. Turning into Glenn with plenty more barbs, spewing acid with every breath. Turning into a brother long dead, even though Felix once feared of becoming replaced when Glenn was alive. Becoming a second choice. Reinforcing unscalable stone walls just so he wouldn’t be the crying, weak child _ever_ again. Just so he wouldn’t cry when someone else died.

“Well it looks like _you’re_ thinking pretty hard. What’s on your mind, buddy?”

“Training.”

“Always with the training! You should just relax and take a break.”

_Just relax and take a break._

“When pigs can fly and hell freezes over.”

“ _Wow,_ you hate relaxing that much? It’s not _that_ bad.”

Felix utterly _despised_ relaxing. It only served to make him anxious, to make him feel like he was doing _nothing_ but sitting on his ass. He _had_ to do something. He had to train. To sharpen his skills, to stay alert in battle, to get stronger so the idiots in his House didn’t get slaughtered. If he slacked off for even a _second,_ it made him uncomfortable.

“It is.”

Sylvain snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe a girl could help you relax? You know-”

Felix grit his teeth hard, clenching his fists and ignoring the digging pain.

“I _don’t_ need a girl. I’m not you.”

“So,” Sylvain held out the word, fake smile blooming into something teasing, “what you’re saying is you _want_ a girl?”

“Sylvain. _When_ have you _ever_ heard me talking about girls?”

“I mean you _did_ talk about Ingrid when we were kids!”

_Saints, he’s so stupid. I almost can’t believe it._

“Yes. I did.”

“And-”

“No.”

“Felix! I didn’t even finish my sentence!”

“Don’t care. I’m leaving.”

Felix stalked off, leaving Sylvain in the dust even as he began to catch up with him.

“Stop following me. I’m not your owner.”

“But Felix! Aren’t you going to ask me to spar?”

“No. I’m training. Alone. Go flirt with some girls.”

“Felix.” Sylvain chided.

“I’ll be out of the training grounds by dinner. Leave me alone.” 

With that, Felix headed back to Garreg Mach and straight to the grounds. Sylvain lingered for a moment, but ultimately stayed in the town. He didn’t feel like eating, much less dinner. His mind was haunted by stupid, useless hypotheticals all day. Felix hardly even focused in class, alarming the Professor, which, of _course,_ set off the Blue Lions into coddling him. Felix hoped that the distraction of training would ease those thoughts. Bury them in the back of his mind.

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. An aggravated sigh left his mouth as he snatched a training sword from the weapons rack.

He gripped the hilt in one hand, drumming his fingers against the wood. Felix swung the blade over his head, watching the sword crash down against the training dummy. He focused on the air rushing by with each strike, the _thud_ of wood meeting straw and cloth, the sun beating down on him. 

Felix yelled, more out of a melting pot of boiling emotions than a battle cry as he viciously hit the innocent training dummy.

His clear, one-track minded thoughts drifted to Sylvain.

Sylvain, who followed him like a lost puppy wherever he went.

Sylvain, who mindlessly, _stupidly_ flirted with anything that breathed.

Sylvain, who was _so_ deep in self-doubt, so lost in the image he created for himself that he started to believe he was worth nothing. A mouth spitting out bullshit, meaningless poetry, getting girls to swoon over his _title,_ his _name_ rather than himself. A smile so painfully insincere when he proved himself “right” that no one wanted him for _him._

Sylvain, who could read anyone like a damn book, but was blind to the ink on Felix’s skin for years.

_The boar will lose himself to his hatred, he’d die because of it. Ingrid will drive herself mad over the past, over my brother. And Sylvain-_

_Sylvain-_

Sylvain would get himself killed because of his behavior. His endless flirting, dating girls and breaking up with them in the same breath. Sylvain, even now, was protective to a fault, willingly staying in the front lines, becoming a barricade for his friends on the battlefield. Risking his life for them, no matter the cost. The Professor only let him _because_ Sylvain was strong enough to survive several hits, because they _knew_ how to lead the Blue Lions.

In the same vein, just as Sylvain was protective, there were plenty of scorned women that probably wanted to sic an angry brother, father or uncle on him. The idiot would _let_ it happen, thinking he deserved it. Thinking it was some sort of cosmic payback, a cheap joke at his expense.

It filled Felix with dread. 

Felix’s sword fell onto the ground.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking? He _wasn’t_ scared. He wasn’t a stupid, crying child anymore. So _why-?_

Felix collapsed onto his knees, brown eyes widening and shutting tightly. His chest felt funny, seized up and tense. His heartbeat was rapid, obnoxiously loud in his own ears.

_Sylvain’s always alone with those girls, always going on dates, always coming back to Garreg Mach just before curfew._

_What if he never comes back?_

_What if he calls for help knowing no one would come?_

_What if-_

A choked noise left Felix’s throat. He bit down on his hand, stopping himself.

A tiny, far away voice settled in his head, clinging in the back of his mind, threatening to overtake him.

_Could I have saved him? Could I have stopped him?_

Why wasn’t he breathing?

Felix’s mind flashed with images, pages upon pages being burnt away, too fast to even process what he was seeing.

A body slumped over in a bloodied field, lances and spears cutting through black clad armor.

The Professor staring out of a window in the boar’s room, talking to the empty air as if the dead could hear them. Turning on their heel, crying once more.

A twenty two year old Felix curling into a ball by his old dorm room bed, marred with regret and the pain of losing someone he desperately tried to hate. Taking up another vow as he sobbed alone in the dark, to bury his feelings, bury _everything_ and just focus on the battles ahead.

Felix rapidly blinked, shaking his head and tugging at his hair.

_Just focus on training. Just focus on training. Get up, just get up._

Felix stayed on the ground, weak and pathetic like he’s always been.

After a while, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour, Felix rose to his feet. He cleared his mind, picking up the training sword and lost himself to his uneven, erratic strikes.

Felix looked up, noticing his shadow shifting on the ground. Yellows, pinks and oranges filled the once baby blue sky. The clouds around the setting sun turned dark gray. Felix glanced back at the training dummy. He raised his sword, ignoring the angry protests from his empty stomach. Just as he was about to hit the dummy, a voice startled him.

“Felix? You’re still training?”

Sylvain.

Felix refused to look back. He nodded.

“You missed dinner, but I saved you some.”

Felix grunted.

“It’s Daphnel stew.” Sylvain tried, attempting to convince him.

To eat, probably. To get him to leave the training grounds.

Sylvain sounded worried. Of course he was. The fool never showed any care for himself. 

“Not hungry.” 

“It’s been hours, Felix! You have to at _least_ eat something.”

Felix blinked, staring at nothing.

“Not hungry.”

“Fe-”

“Worry about yourself. I’m _fine._ ”

“What do you _mean_ worry about myself? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Now his childhood crush seemed frustrated.

Silence loomed over the pair.

“You up for a sparring match?” Sylvain drawled, changing tactics.

There was a tightness in his voice, somewhere. Hidden underneath his casual, laid back tone. It reminded Felix of something. His mind drew blanks, only coming up with a number and a word. A time frame on loop. The same event happening over and over.

Five. War.

Five. War.

_Fi-_

Felix didn’t understand it.

“Felix?” 

“What?”

“Do you want to spar?”

Felix’s body screamed at him to decline. His arms were tired. Sore. His legs burned.

Sparring was the only way he could talk. The only way he could convey his feelings. 

“How long?”

Sylvain waited a few moments before answering, “Three minutes? You’re looking pretty tired there.”

That wasn’t what Felix meant.

How long would Sylvain stay like this? Hiding behind a mask of deceit? Playing with fire, hoping to get burned again and again and _again?_ Blowing out a candle and shutting the door so no one else could come in?

Felix would lose him.

Just like Glenn.

Just like the boar.

As much as Felix tried to forget, tried to keep the past where it belonged, he _still_ cared.

Felix cared for his old man. His father. Even with the words that left his mouth, staining their relationship, Felix still loved his father. They couldn’t see eye to eye because they were both shit at talking, shit at grieving.

Felix still cared for a dead man. Glenn. Fearing that one day he’d forget the sound of his laughter, his voice. No matter how many years that went by, how many times Felix tried to numb the pain, it always came back. To remind him, more so than haunt him.

What was he supposed to do?

“I’m tired.”

An admission of weakness. A complaint. 

“Let’s get you to-”

“I’m _tired._ ”

The force in Felix’s voice lacked any of his usual harshness. It was small, almost defeated. Frail in a way he distantly remembered.

“I don’t think I can handle this.”

“Handle what, Felix?” Sylvain gently asked him, as if Felix was a wounded, terrified animal.

Felix seethed. He _wasn’t_ going to cry. He made sure of that ever since Glenn didn’t make it home.

“ _You_!”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“I get it, I mean I _am_ a good for-”

“That’s not-! That’s _not_ what I meant. You- you _keep_ destroying yourself! _What_ are you trying to achieve?! Your own death? Is that it? I _don’t_ understand it,” Felix bit back a sob, his voice choked up and throaty, “do you want to die?”

_Could I have saved him?_

“I don’t know how to help, if I _can-_ I-”

_Could I have stopped him?_

“Just _stop_ this. _Stop!_ I’ve already lost the boar-”

_So much anguish, so much hatred._

“I _can’t_ lose you, too. Not like this, I _can’t-_ I won’t!”

Felix grit his teeth, trying to breathe deeply, but failed when his breathing stuttered.

“So,” Felix began, hissing when his voice came out weak, “ _so!_ Get your head out of your ass, already!”

There it was, his blunt way of speaking. His disguise. His own damn mask.

“I’m not going to put up with you if you keep acting like this.”

But Felix would. He _would_ because he cared too much to let go, to leave Sylvain to suffer alone. 

Sylvain seemed to know that, too. He walked over to Felix, wrapping him in a loose hug. Felix, for once, didn’t fight it. He honestly needed the comfort.

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathed into his ear, “I’ll try, okay?”

“Promise me.”

Felix felt silly saying that, but it was a good enough trap. Sylvain never broke his promises, he _never_ truly disregarded his friends, especially when they needed him, battlefield or not.

“Promise me.” Felix whispered, allowing a plea to tinge his voice.

Felix felt Sylvain nod. 

“I promise.”

Felix’s shoulders sagged.

“Thank you, Sylvain.”

A soft laugh left Sylvain’s mouth, “Yeah, yeah. Now come on, I bet you’re starving, Felix.”

Even though Felix couldn’t see Sylvain’s face, he still looked away.

“A little.” Felix admitted. 

* * *

Sylvain took Felix’s promise to heart, just as he thought he would. It was hard for Sylvain, Felix knew. Flirting was hard wired into his brain, dishonesty dripping from his lips with every plastic flower petal that fell from his mouth. Sylvain would restrain himself when he was approached by girls, a flimsy excuse on the tip of his tongue, walking away before he could say anything else. Sometimes, he couldn’t help himself, flirting away and looking ashamed right after.

Eventually Seteth figured out that Sylvain was changing - and for the better. Nothing bad happened, all Seteth did was talk to Sylvain one on one. The poor redhead practically raced into Felix’s room, a complete and blubbering mess. Babbling on about how Seteth was proud of him, that Sylvain was a good man, how his Crest hardly defined him; that it _shouldn’t_ have been tied to his self-worth and how he’d rather have the straight laced man as his father.

Felix didn’t really blame Sylvain for that last point. Seteth was decent.

More than decent.

Admittedly, Felix was proud of Sylvain, too.

That idiot, his crush was driven to make a change for himself.

Felix might as well do the same. Scared as he was, he wasn’t a coward.

“Professor.” Felix called, briefly looking at Byleth as they stopped lecturing.

Byleth’s gaze left the chalkboard. They hummed, acknowledging Felix. Felix glanced away before they could meet his eyes, choosing to stare at Sylvain. Apparently, that was the wrong action to take because his heart rate increased.

“I’ll be back.”

Byleth nodded, a faint smile on their pale face. There was a knowing look in their eyes that Felix didn’t quite like.

For some reason, Byleth’s smile turned bittersweet. Felix dragged Sylvain out of the classroom before he read too much into Byleth’s expression. He leaned against the brick pillar behind him, anxiously keeping his eyes on Sylvain. Felix couldn’t hold it, sharply glancing away.

“You alright, Felix?”

“Stop talking. My thoughts are loud enough as is.”

_Just say the stupid words, it’s not that hard. Say them. Tell him, already._

Felix felt Sylvain staring.

“Stop looking at me. Just- just-”

_Tell him!_

_Why was it so easy to say ‘I love you’ back then? Why is it so difficult now?_

“I-”

_I love you, Sylvain._

_I love you, Sylvain. Ever since we were kids._

_I love you, Sylvain. Ever since we were kids. I still love you, with all your stupid bullshit. I love your smile, I love your voice, I love your hugs._

“I like you, I guess.”

_Fucking damnit!_

“Uh. I mean-! I _mean-_ a lot. I like you. A lot. I always have, so- you know. Nevermind. I’m going back to class.”

This was absolutely mortifying. Embarrassing, if Felix was being honest.

Sylvain could settle for better. People have before, so it didn’t matter.

Felix left his spot against the pillar, moving to head to the double doors of the Blue Lions classroom. 

A hand grabbed his wrist before he could take another step.

Sylvain kissed him.

Strong arms wrapped around Felix’s waist, tightening their grip as if Sylvain was terrified of letting go.

Felix felt Sylvain shudder against him, felt tears landing on his cheek and trailing down onto his neck. Felix let out a scoff from his nose, kissing his idiot right back. That only served to make him cry harder, a strangled, soft noise escaping Sylvain’s throat. Sylvain kissed him, something out of desperation, filled with longing, judging by how he refused to stop.

After a while, Felix smacked Sylvain’s back, having enough.

Sylvain pulled away, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly hung open. He swallowed, watching a blushing Felix.

“You really want _me?_ Felix, are you su-”

“If I _wasn’t_ sure we wouldn’t have this conversation,” Felix snapped to hide how flustered he was, his blush spreading across his cheeks, “or that kiss. So-”

“You really want me.” Sylvain whispered under his breath in disbelief.

“When did you start liking me?” Sylvain asked, his voice a lot louder.

“A while ago.”

“Felix. _Please._ ” 

“Fine. Nosy bastard.”

Felix looked away from Sylvain.

“The week we met, but I didn’t really understand, I guess. It was when we made that promise that I knew how I felt.”

“You were seven!”

“And?”

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Sylvain murmured, bringing his hands to his head, “holy shit.”

“Sylvain, quit it. I like you, you like me, end of story. Stop freaking out over nothing.”

Sylvain made a croaking noise in response.

“You like me.”

“I thought we established that when you stuck your tongue down my throat.”

“ _Felix_!” Sylvain screeched.

“That’s my name.”

Sylvain eventually calmed down. He had a self-deprecating smile on his face. It withered into a frown.

“I’m a fuck up, Felix,” an empty laugh flew out of his mouth, “I can’t help but burn every bridge I cross, I can’t help but think it’s _safer_ to do that. I know you love me, but I’m not worth it. Not really. I’ll keep messing up, things will change like they always do and you’ll leave.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, taking a painfully deep breath. He planted his right hand into the wall, nails lightly digging into the gravel. His other hand found Sylvain’s chin, gently cupping it. Sylvain’s eyes widened, a million different questions in them. Felix looked him dead in the eye, pinching his eyebrows, glaring at him.

“You’re a _moron,_ incorrigible, insatiable, self-sacrificial, annoying, unmotivated!” Felix spat in a half-furious rush, words blending together.

Sylvain’s frown deepened. He tried to look down, but Felix’s firm grip on his chin stopped him. The redhead opened his mouth to speak and Felix beat him to the punch. A delicate smile formed on Felix’s lips, brown eyes crinkling.

“And you’re Sylvain. Sylvie.”

Felix refused to stand on his toes, so instead, he grabbed a hold of Sylvain’s collar and kissed his forehead.

Felix distantly wondered how stupid they must have looked. Sylvain, who was woefully disingenuous, hardly ever cried, now quietly _losing_ it, bawling his eyes out.

Felix, losing all of his sharp edges, wearing a smile he reserved for the stray cats in the monastery, now aimed at the person he cared for the most.

“I love you, Sylvain. Always. Until we die, I’ll stick with you, you idiot. And I guess, even after that, I’ll stay with you.”

Sylvain smiled back at him, almost as though he forgot how to do it. His bottom lip wobbled, another quiet sob was wrenched from his mouth. Felix wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s neck.

“I-” Sylvain’s words failed him, too choked up, too garbled from crying.

Sylvain hugged Felix back, mouthing ‘I love you’ over and over into his shoulder.

* * *

This was getting absolutely ridiculous. Felix’s eye twitched as he peered over the bush he was hiding behind. The boar and Claude were busy having tea, talking away. The boar listened to Claude, or maybe he didn’t, judging by the lovesick look in his eyes and the rose petals dancing across his cheeks. _Goddess,_ the boar was enamored. 

“Can we go?” Felix demanded more so than asked.

Sylvain chuckled at him, ruffling his hair. He idly played with Felix’s hair and kissed his forehead.

“We could _or_ you could laugh at His Highness when he eventually asks us for help!”

“You owe me a sparring match.”

“ _Fe_!” Sylvain softly whined.

“What, _Sylvie_?” Felix shot back, feigning annoyance.

“How about a sparring match _and_ a cute cat hairpin.”

A red hot blush rose to Felix’s face, “I _hate_ you.”

“No you don’t!” Sylvain chirped.

Felix grumbled, “I don’t like _cute_ things, I’m not going to wear it.”

It was true, he didn’t care for cute things, _however,_ Felix would wear the stupid hairclip just to spite Sylvain.

Felix liked cats, too and the hairclip _would_ serve a purpose.

“Aw, what about a poem, then?”

“I have enough of them, don’t make more.”

Sylvain _obviously_ took that as: “Yes! Make more! Write that down, write that down!”

Felix liked Sylvain’s poems.

Felix liked Sylvain. 

Sylvain jumped, quickly ducking his head back to the bush.

“What?”

“We were almost compromised!”

“ _You_ were almost compromised. What, did Claude spot you?”

“Yes!”

Felix snorted, rolling his eyes, “I highly doubt he cares we’re watching. He probably knows we’ve been sitting here, too.”

Felix overheard the boar speaking.

“Is there something the matter, Claude?”

“Nah, thought I saw a dog.”

“A,” the boar paused, seemingly confused, “dog? I don’t believe they wander that far.”

“Eh, he was a sneaky dog.”

The boar laughed a little, “Much like you, I suppose.”

“Hey!”

“Psst, hey Felix.”

Felix rose an eyebrow at Sylvain. The redhead grinned at him, quietly laughing.

“Woof.”

Felix cracked a smile, patting Sylvain on the head.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Only for you.”

Felix shoved him deeper into the bush, making Sylvain yell out.

“Oh hey, Your Highness. Hi Claude.”

“Sylvain?! What- what are you doing here?”

“You know, becoming one with nature.”

“And also spying on us, I see.”

Felix couldn’t see the boar’s face, but he sounded virtually unsurprised.

“Is Felix with you, Sylvain?”

“Nope. I tried my best to convince him, but he still said no! ‘I’m going to train. Bye, the love of my life.’”

Felix kicked him, pushing Sylvain out of his hiding spot.

“ _Ow._ Could you hit any harder?”

Felix heard Claude snort.

“Hello to you too, Felix.” Claude greeted.

“Goodbye.” Felix replied, pulling Sylvain out of the bush and leaving with his boyfriend in tow.

The couple headed to the second floor dormitory. Sylvain opened his door, shuffling inside. He collapsed on his bed like a starfish, staring at Felix like he was the only person in the world that mattered.

“Come ‘ere!” Sylvain whined like a child.

Felix huffed, sitting by Sylvain’s bed. Sylvain shot up, latching onto Felix like a pillow. He planted a kiss on his cheek and plenty more wherever he could reach.

“So annoying.” 

“I prefer the word loving.”

Sylvain laughed, leaning down to rest his head against Felix’s shoulder.

“So about Dimitri and that Claude kid.” Sylvain brought up.

“ _Claude kid._ ” Felix mocked.

Sylvain ignored him, “It’s so obvious they like each other, it’s almost hilarious.”

“Go on.”

“Eventually, _hopefully,_ they’ll confess. But when? I think it’ll take three months.”

“Four. The boar is an idiot and Claude’s too tight lipped.”

“Want to bet on that?”

Felix scoffed, “ _Obviously._ If I win, you train with me for a month.”

“I already do!”

Felix blinked, “I guess you can teach me how to write poetry.”

“That sounds good, I like it. If _I_ win, which I totally will, you have to be nice to people for a week.”

“ _What?_ I’m nice.”

“Polite, then, unless you _can’t_ do that.”

“I don’t back down from a challenge, _Gautier._ ”

“I know you don’t, Fluff-darius.”

“You’re such a bastard, you know that?” Felix grumbled as heat flooded his face.

“Your one and only bastard!”

* * *

The boar and Claude got together. Felix won the bet, internally screaming in delight that he didn’t have to be nice to everyone.

Imagining him being _polite_ to _Hubert_ almost made him laugh. He briefly wondered if either of them had the patience for each other to hold a conversation.

Felix banished the thought away. He had _far_ more important things to do.

Felix speed walked into the library, scowling when the Golden Deer leader wasn’t inside. Although, Linhardt was huddled in a corner, sleeping on the floor with a pile of books around him. The boy used his uniform jacket as a blanket. Felix huffed, instantly walking right out.

Where _was_ Claude?

Felix just wanted to talk.

Talk and _also_ threaten his well being if he breathed wrong in the boar’s direction. In the midst of his thoughts, building up what he would even say, Felix found Claude.

For _some_ reason, Claude was in the training grounds. Felix saw the boy minutely tense up, reaching to grab something from his boot.

“I’ve been looking for you. Why are you even here?”

Claude’s shoulders sagged in what seemed to be relief.

“Waiting for you, really.”

Claude looked over his shoulder and turned to face Felix.

Felix crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Sylvain told me to wait for you here.”

“And I’m here. Listen to me.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, glowering past Claude and staring at a training dummy.

“The boar- _Dimitri_ has enough on his plate, a whole _feast._ I don’t care who he dates, _why_ he’s dating you, or how it happened. I can care less what he chooses to do. _But,_ if you _hurt_ him, I’ll kill you. Got it? Great.”

“You’re someone _special_ to him, someone he’ll trust more than us, probably. He cares too much, _far_ too much and if you break that trust- if you even _think_ of using him- ugh. Whatever. Don’t mess up.”

“Huh. You care a lot, don’t you?”

“Don’t put _words_ in my mouth, Riegan. You’re already on thin ice.”

Claude smiled. 

“I’ll take good care of him, don’t worry, Felix.”

Claude sighed, his smile growing a bit bigger.

“It’s finally over, _damn_ you lions put me through the ringer.”

“ _Good._ You must have got the message by now.” 

“ _Oh,_ ” Claude dragged the word, “yeah I did. I think it _really_ sunk in when _Mercedes_ threatened me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Okay, yeah, I am. She really just said she’d be disappointed if I broke poor Dima’s heart.”

“Sounds like her. Can I leave now or do you have something else to say?”

“One more thing, one more thing.”

“What?”

“Felix, your boyfriend is _so_ terrifying when he’s protective. I rather have _you_ threaten me instead.”

Felix blinked, “Was he _that_ bad?”

“ _Felix._ I felt like he’d _stab_ me, and while I’m _very_ prepared for that, I _wasn’t_ prepared for Sylvain. I legitimately feel like I’m going to have nightmares tonight.”

“I’ll,” Felix winced, “I’ll talk to him about it.”

With that, Felix left Claude to his own devices.

* * *

Edelgard sat proud, across from her fellow injured classmates and the staff. Almost _everyone_ involved in the massive battle a week ago was present, ironically in the Black Eagle classroom. The notable members of the Knights of Seiros hung back, clinging against the wall and glaring daggers at Edelgard. Alois looked forlorn, staring at Edelgard in stark disappointment, no goofy smile in sight. Shamir pretended to look disinterested, flipping a gold coin in her right hand. Her left was tightly clenched in contrast. Catherine looked down right pissed. Jeralt, though, _Jeralt_ was surprisingly neutral about all this.

The school staff and the House members sat by the wooden desks, bandaged up and equally upset. The Black Eagles in particular, save for Hubert looked absolutely _betrayed._ The Golden Deer were huddled close together, with Claude tightly holding onto a simmering, _enraged_ Dimitri.

The Blue Lions were left one member short.

Sylvain.

Sylvain was still stuck in the infirmary, healing up. It was already unlikely he would make it to the makeshift meeting because of his mental state.

Sylvain kept smiling at his friends when they barged into the room, utterly worried. Only to shatter when they left, reaching out to Felix and clinging onto him like a lifeline. Waking up in a panic, forcing himself to keep quiet, trapping his screams in his throat. He didn’t say a single thing, almost as if he was terrified of getting attacked by a brother long dead. Sylvain sobbed to Felix, telling him that he was useless like this, that he was _sorry_ for being a burden.

“It’s true. I am the Flame Emperor.” Edelgard began, firm in her statement as if she didn’t find _anything_ wrong with it.

“Why.”

Felix didn’t realize he spoke up until both Edelgard and Hubert stared at him. _Everyone_ followed suit and started to look at him. He didn’t realize that his voice was tinged with genuine, _venomous_ anger.

“If one of the students or faculty saw _me_ orchestrating the things I have done, I am sure I would be caught much faster. It was a reasonable choice to make to disguise myself.”

“Edelgard, would you care to _clearly_ state your motives?” Seteth pressed.

Seteth’s lips tugged into a deeper frown, “It would help us understand what you wish for, as a leading power of Fódlan. Why you went to such great lengths.”

Edelgard briefly looked displeased at Seteth’s questions. She regained a neutral expression, impassive with plenty of walls.

“I wanted to rid Fódlan of the Crest system, a system that has oppressed and _tortured_ the Crestless, as well as those _with_ Crests. The church which dominates this entire land with an iron fist, with it’s blatant _censorship_ and secrets it wouldn’t _dare_ let go.”

Seteth took her ideals into consideration, much more calmly than Felix expected.

“I suppose, in part, I am to blame with the censorship you speak so negatively of, and it is true. The central church has a handful of secrets, just as the very people in this room do, if I were to unearth those secrets, I can imagine it will not be received well.”

“So you rather hide it? No matter how horrible the truth is?” Edelgard countered with an edge in her voice.

“Perhaps I would discuss the truth, but before I do, let’s return to the topic at hand. Dismantling the Crest system _and_ the main church is quite the goal, but how would you achieve it?”

“I made up my mind _long_ ago. Policies and treaties would go nowhere. The nobles of Fódlan are too stuck in their ways to budge, and Rhea is too stubborn to relinquish her control as the Archbishop. The fastest way to bring this new dawn was - _is_ war.”

Seteth blinked. Slowly. His face briefly contorted in pure befuddlement and a hint of disappointment.

_However,_ the students _exploded._

“Wait, wait- _Edelgard!_ War? A _war?_ Against _what,_ the church?” Caspar asked, his voice cracking in terror.

“I am not having understanding, Edelgard. Wars have costs, do they not? If you declared war, Fódlan would become like Brigid, even if you were having the win or loss.” Petra added on, confused.

“Would we _really_ have to fight for you? I think the last fight was enough for me, thanks.” Linhardt said his piece before trying and _failing_ to go to sleep.

“Edie. _Why?_ You would displace _so_ many people, just for this? Even _now_ there are so many children suffering alone in the streets of Enbarr, waiting for their next meal, waiting to _die,_ ” Dorothea’s voice choked up, “is there really no other way for you to achieve your dreams? Not even peacefully?”

Ferdinand raked a shaking hand in his hair, losing his ego in one fell swoop, “Did you plan for this all along, Edelgard? Please do not tell me you were planning to use _us_ to- _Goddess- Edelgard-_!”

Ferdinand’s next words were haunting. Quiet.

“Why is it now that I feel so strange? As though I’ve been pierced by a sword?”

Ferdinand raised his hand to his lips, expecting to find _something._

“A war? She was about to declare war. A war, a war, a _war._ Bernie should have just listened to father, maybe I wouldn’t have been forced to stay here- why- _why-_ I thought Garreg Mach was _safe,_ I thought I would be safe.” Bernadetta whispered, panic flooding each and every word.

A war, huh?

Figured.

“None of you understand.”

“Of _course_ we don’t.” Claude shot back, scarily calm.

Felix _really_ didn’t like how Claude sounded unaffected.

Felix risked a look at the golden House leader and _immediately_ looked away.

Claude’s eyes- his fucking _eyes._

They were glowing, which was fairly normal, _that_ was fine.

It was like staring at a viper. Coiled and more than just agitated. Hissing violently, ready to _kill,_ forgoing the warning strike.

“So, you want to start a war, dismantle the church and eliminate the Crest system. It’s the easy answer, and probably a gateway for my _own_ dreams, but I’m not willing to plunge an entire nation into chaos. Care to share _why_ you picked a declaration of war over everything _else_?”

“Lady Edelgard is not required to explain any-”

“Vestra. I _think_ she has the decency to explain _everything_ after an _entire_ army that she _personally_ came to warn us about, came after us. Or do I have to add the potential bloodbath we could have had on that field?”

_Shit,_ Claude was furious.

Before Hubert could threaten Claude or reply, the boy in gold continued.

“ _Or_ do I have to tell your _other_ secret to the _rest_ of the class?”

“ _Excuse_ you?”

Claude shrugged, smiling and showing teeth.

It was disturbing. It was like watching the boar slaughter those soldiers all those years ago.

“I _love_ learning, don’t you? It’s pretty easy to eavesdrop here.”

Claude’s usual sugary words, dipped in sludge disguised as honey, _burned._ There was no flowery, casual tone to his voice, no curiosity, _nothing_ but ice cold, dreadful anger.

“I didn’t have _time._ ”

Claude blankly stared at her, as if he heard a similar story.

“That army? That very army were members of Those Who Slither in the Dark. An organization that took my sibling from me, took my own _life_ because of what _they_ did.”

Lysithea paled, eyeing Edelgard in _horror._ Realization.

“They put me in a cell. They tortured me, tortured my siblings and they _died._ One by one, my siblings perished, crying out for a father that did _nothing._ They experimented on all of us and I was the one to successfully bear two Crests. All I had, all I remember is the dagger they let me keep,” Edelgard’s _tight,_ barely clipped voice twinged in pain, “I don’t remember who gave it to me, why they did, but as I suffered, listening to my siblings’ screams, clear as day there was a voice in my head, telling me to cut my own path.”

The wood of the table chipped and _cracked._ Felix glanced over to the boar- to Dimitri.

He looked conflicted, fighting his own anger that threatened to rise to the surface again. Fighting the anguish that crept along his skin, painting a pitiful picture of a boy who just lost it all.

“El, Goddess, _El-_ ”

Edelgard’s face twisted in disgust, “You don’t have the _right_ to call me that.”

“You truly don’t remember, don’t you?” Dimitri asked, sorrowful.

Edelgard didn’t respond, but remained royally pissed off at Dimitri using her oh-so-sacred nickname.

“There was a girl I recall meeting,” a bitter smile split Dimitri’s face as he stared at Edelgard, “although she only stayed in Farghus for three years, it felt much longer. Every day, she came to the manor, demanding me to dance, even though I was terrible at it. For a nine year old girl, she was quite bossy,” Dimitri laughed a bit, “I suppose I don’t blame her, I wasn’t the best student, and my Crest didn’t help, at all. We were close, just as close as I was with my childhood friends,” Dimitri frowned, looking at the broken part of the table, “then I found out she would leave, so I begged Sylvain to come with me and purchase a dagger for her. The next day, before she left for the Empire, I gave you that dagger, the one slung on your hip, even now.”

“You- You’re-” Edelgard couldn’t look at him.

“I _forgot_ you, I forgot you and- I can’t believe I- _Miti-_ Dimitri-”

“It’s alright, El. Now please, we can sort out our relationship later, we must stay back on topic.”

_Now,_ Edelgard looked uncomfortable, exposed, almost.

“Right.” Edelgard replied after what seemed to be a _year_ long silence.

“I planned, even before I attended Garreg Mach. When I found out the _Prince of Faerghus_ and the heir to the Alliance Dukedom would _also_ attend, I employed a bandit leader to kill the both of you.”

While the Blue Lions and Felix included were angered by Edelgard’s statement, the amount of _rage_ rolling off the Golden Deer was frightening. Even the more meeker members of the golden House were _incredibly_ pissed off. The magic users’ eyes began to harshly glow and the others looked as though they’d beat the ever living _shit_ out of Edelgard.

Claude faked a laugh, “Oh, _oh,_ that’s hilarious.”

“And why is that?”

“If I may share a secret of my own, Princessness?” 

Edelgard nodded.

“I’m not just a heir, Edelgard,” Claude smiled again, growing wider and wider, “I’m the prince of Almyra, too.”

The Golden Deer hardly reacted to Claude’s revelation, almost as though they _already_ knew. The Professor and strangely _Jeralt,_ shared the same look.

“You’re _what_?” Edelgard exclaimed, pale lilac eyes going wide.

“Yep, and can you just _picture_ my own dream falling to ash with all the bloodshed you’d cause to poor little Fódlan? The entire nation wouldn’t be safe, even _with_ Fódlan’s Throat, not when you have my father in the front lines or even Nardel. Anyway, assassination attempts are pretty trivial to me, so I guess I won’t be too offended.”

Edelgard looked like she would have an aneurysm. Felix didn’t exactly blame her for that, Claude’s entire spiel was _loaded._

“Keep going! I’m actually entertained by this!” Claude cheered.

“I allied myself with the army you fought a week ago, I shall tell you right now, I _despise_ them. Our alliance was out of mere convenience. Just as they used me, I used them.”

Felix’s blood _boiled._

“Why would you do such a thing?!” Lysithea _screamed,_ her voice raw with hurt.

“ _Why_ did you decide to _ally_ with the very people that _hurt_ you? _What_ would they _possibly_ offer you?! Are you _insane_?”

“They would inadvertently aid me with my goal, that is all.”

“ _Aid_ you? _AID YOU?!_ Did kidnapping Flayn help you at all?!”

“No. Capturing Flayn was _not_ my-”

“The Death Knight was _there._ If kidnapping Flayn _wasn’t_ your fault or a part of _your_ plan, then why was he there? Why was he _waiting_ for us?”

“And _you_ were there, too, when we defeated the Death Knight!”

“It was them! I didn’t know they had plans to kidnap Flayn!”

“You’re _still_ at fault! You’re _complicit,_ do you _not_ understand what that means?!”

Lysithea shook her head, clenching her fists and placing them in her lap, “I can’t believe this! I can’t.”

Claude squeezed Dimitri’s arm before letting go. He stood up, blissfully ignoring Edelgard and heading over to Lysithea. The boy hugged her from behind, leaning down to press his chin against her snow white hair. He hummed something, letting his glowing eyes slip shut.

“Edelgard, as Flayn’s brother, I must ask of you. Just _who_ are you working with?”

“They called themselves Agarthans once.”

For a _millisecond,_ Seteth’s pupils slit. His calm, yet strict nature twisted into something inhuman, something _powerful_ for only a second. 

“I see.” Seteth said, entirely neutral. 

Rhea, on the other hand, _lost_ it. Her nails began to elongate into short claws, her pupils expanded and shifted, taking on an eerie glow. Rhea, the serene, motherly Archbishop, _sneered_ at Edelgard with fury even the boar wasn’t capable of.

Flayn, too, was affected. Frozen in her seat, saying _nothing._ Not breathing, not moving. Nothing.

“You _foolish,_ _**insolent**_ girl! Do you _not_ realize what you have just admitted to?” _Rhea_ screamed.

“At least I swallowed my pride and told the _truth._ ”

“You wish to know the truth so badly? So be-”

“Rhea.” Byleth interrupted.

“ _Professor._ ” Rhea growled.

“Allow _me_ to tell you, Edelgard. The Agarthans are, or I guess _was_ a race from centuries ago. Long story short they unleashed a genocide onto _another_ race, leaving a very few alive. An old man by the name of Nemesis killed Sothis, too,” Byleth got off track, oddly gushing about a particular detail, “that fight was _insane._ I’m so glad I had everyone break his weapon down. Claude even landed the last strike with the Creator sword,” Byleth shook their head, continuing, “After that, they used her bones, as well as the slain people’s bones to create the Relics.”

No one said anything for a _long_ while.

“When I found _that_ out, I landed the Lance of Ruin to Rhea,” Byleth whispered under their breath, “no wonder she was so angry at me the first time when I refused to hand it over.”

“Th-Then what about Crests?” Edelgard shakily asked, still processing the horrid information.

“Their blood. They came directly from their blood.”

“Oh.”

Felix tuned Edelgard out. The chaos swarming the classroom.

If Edelgard hadn’t allied with the Agarthans, would that have meant the year would go by peacefully?

An image flashed in Felix’s mind, warping the room. Grass below his feet, wet with fresh blood. A foggy sky torn apart by stray fireballs. Byleth ushering the entire army into the trees and being hunted down by a man with a snow white wyvern and _his_ army. Killing everyone but that man and his retainer just to survive.

Would that have prevented Flayn from being kidnapped?

Another image, burning into his mind and leaving just as quickly as it came.

A man with bright orange hair, dyed red with blood. Curled and elegant. Another man with silky obnoxious purple, spilling over his face. Orange-red flames and heavy stones from a nearby ballista littered their broken bodies.

All of it.

Himself. Five years into the future, haunted by regret. Staring at the Professor with a brave face, cracking his mask without meaning to, telling them about the beast, his childhood friend they fought mere hours ago. Byleth left, Felix cried.

All of it was her fault.

Felix stared ahead, watching the room shift again. Everyone sitting by the tables looked older. Tired.

Most of them looked dead.

All of the Golden Deer were slumped over, dried blood sticking onto the table. Ignatz was free of blood, pursing his lips as his formerly nervous gaze twisted into that of a killer. Claude stared at a dead Hilda, his expression unreadable. 

Half of the Black Eagles seemed dead as well. Dried blood covered half of Hubert’s face. His eyes were glazed over, still managing to look sinister. Crazed or desperate. Petra and Ferdinand leaned back. A lance pierced Petra’s stomach, the blood no longer fresh. Orange-red flames singed the wood near Ferdinand’s body. Linhardt stared at the fresh blood in his hands, Caspar refused to look in his direction. Bernadetta curled into herself, tugging at her hair. Dorothea locked her eyes on Ferdinand, tearing up.

In front of the bodies were clear glass bottles with a royal blue ribbon tied to the rim. Crimson roses were left inside each one.

If Edelgard didn’t ally with them, Sylvain wouldn’t have lost his arm.

“It’s your fault.”

Everyone in the room jumped at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“It’s all your fault. It’s _your_ fault!”

“As I _just_ told you all, I did _not_ commit the Tragedy of Duscur.”

Felix seethed, “I’m talking about the battle we had last week.”

Felix’s Crest flared on his neck. Electricity buzzed along his skin. It violently crackled and sparked in his hands.

“I utterly _despise_ you.”

Felix stormed out, heading straight for the infirmary. 

* * *

The week after that, Mattias visited Garreg Mach, much to Byleth and Seteth’s angry protests. He came to tell his lone son in person that he was disowned. Useless in his eyes, the loss of an arm being a _detriment_ to his name and Crest. He told his only son he would be unwanted.

Felix punched him _right_ in his face, screaming for Manuela to get him _out_ of the infirmary. Sylvain broke down in tears and Felix held onto him, hugging him tighter when he asked if Felix still wanted him.

_Then_ Felix’s old man showed up, too. It was on Thursday. The man practically _rushed_ into the infirmary, wrapping the pair in a warm bear hug, babbling apologies to the both of them. He repeatedly told Felix how much he loved him, how terrified he was when he heard the monastery was attacked, no mention of chivalry or knighthood at _all._ Felix just let Rodrigue hug him, missing the feeling of a father’s embrace. The man offered Sylvain a place to stay, the Fraldarius estate.

A future.

* * *

Felix’s eyes fluttered open. A soft groan left his lips. He scowled at the drool dribbling down his chin and quickly wiped it off. Felix glanced out the window, catching the sight of the starry night sky.

“G’mornin’, kitten.” Sylvain slurred as he roused from his own sleep.

“It’s the middle of the night. _Where_ do you see the sun?”

Sylvain gave him a sleepy little smile, “You’re my sun, ‘member? Like the poem I wrote for you.”

Felix scoffed, “Of course the first thing you do when you wake up is flirt. I’m not even surprised.”

“Love you!” Sylvain replied, ignoring Felix’s words altogether.

Felix rolled his eyes, “Love you too.”

Felix’s eyes drifted from Sylvain to a particular white box on the nightstand.

“What’s that?”

“Hm? Oh. The Professor dropped it off after you fell asleep.”

Felix nodded.

“Can you grab it for me?”

Felix reached over, holding the box in his hands. His eyebrows quirked at the weight, not expecting it to be heavy. He set it down in between them. Felix gently pulled the lid off. Inside, were a couple of trinkets and gifts. Cards, books, letters, chess pieces, even a dagger, which Felix _knew_ was from Dimitri. On top of it all was a metal prosthetic arm. It was pitch black, save for the dark red detailing on the knuckles and the joints connecting the fingers.

Sylvain stared at the box, lips slightly parted. 

“I,” a laugh tumbled out of Sylvain’s mouth, “I forgot how much they cared.”

“None of that self-hatred, it’s too late for this.”

“No, no. I’m alright, just happy.”

Felix gave him a look, clearly not convinced.

“Really,” Sylvain shot Felix a tender look, whispering, “really. I’m alright.”

Felix grunted.

“Good. You better be.”

Sylvain snorted, leaning forward to hug Felix.

“What are you going to do with the arm?”

“Wear it, what else?”

Felix balked, eyes flying wide open, “Right _now_?”

“I mean, you said it better yourself, albeit way more irritated and angry, but I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself, just keep moving forward, right?”

“Well! I- Ugh, I guess.”

Sylvain hummed, smiling at Felix. He carefully took out the prosthetic arm, flipping it around.

“Can you help me out a little, Fe?”

Felix didn’t respond, gently taking the arm from Sylvain. He thumbed over the black straps, staring intently at the metal limb. Without a word, Felix set the prosthetic over Sylvain’s stump, wrapping the straps in place. Sylvain raised his left arm, in the process of cupping Felix’s face. Felix’s hand shot out, shoving his warm left hand away. He gently held Sylvain’s _other_ hand - the prosthetic, curling his fingers over the cold metal. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll train you.”

Tomorrow, fighting under the sun, under the moon with a field of daffodils below.


End file.
